


Guardian angel

by JAKishu



Series: Meeting an angel [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Guardian Angel, Hiatus, Hurt Sherlock, Multi, Post-Reichenbach, Prison, Reunion, Serbia - Freeform, The Fall - Freeform, Wings, angel - Freeform, john is sherlock´s heart, knife attack, sherlock´s heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAKishu/pseuds/JAKishu
Summary: Sherlock fights to destroy Moriarty s network, but even the great Sherlock Holmes needs sometime a bit help from an angel.





	

"Is this your breaking point?" The soft voice in front of him is asking. Sherlock opens his eyes. There is an angel in front of him, literally an angel. With wings.

The voice asks again. "Are you giving up? Have you forgotten why you are here?" The angel looks like a young woman, blond hair and blue eyes, with wings made out of light.

Sherlock looks up to her; he is sitting on the floor and waiting for his death. His will is broken and he cannot remember why he is here in the first place. Alone and hurt. The angel moves out of the corner and kneels next to him. Her hand moves and stops on his chest. Her touch is warm and careful, so as not to hurt him. "Your heart is still beating. It's still alive. So why are you giving up?" She wasn't judgmental or disappointed. It was just her voice in his head asking him a question. Her lips don't move.

"What do you mean with alive? Of course my heart is still beating, my body is still working." Sherlock asks confused.

The look of the angel changes to a sad smile. "Your heart isn't really here although he is still alive. So try to remember why you are doing this in the first place."

"'He'? It's an organ, how can a heart be a 'he'?" Sherlock doesn't understand anything anymore.

The angel sits next to him and waits for his brain to start working properly again. Her eyes and hair remind him of someone, someone he knows, someone he cares for, his someone. And it all comes back to him: Moriarty, the roof and John. John. The reason he is doing this. To keep John Watson safe.

"He is alive." Wasn't a question, it was something he was now continuously saying to himself, over and over again. So that he could believe it.

"Yes he is. And he will continue to be so, but only if you keep fighting." A fire is ignited into his eyes, and the angel stands up and disappears.

Maybe Sherlock should be worried about having a hallucination with an angel. But he doesn't care. John safe. Moriarty's network. He will destroy it. That is his mission now. And then he can go back home. Back to John. He won't give up, he isn't broken and he certainly won't die here alone.

 

 

 

Sherlock escaped and continued his mission; there wasn't a single day where he thought about stopping the fight.

Until one day, seven months later, a man comes from behind and stabs him with a knife, a deep and deadly cut. As quickly as he had come the man was gone again. Even before Sherlock hit the ground of the dark alley. He could feel the pain and the blood running quickly out of the deep wound. He is sure this is "a bit not good" like John would say it. In the end it doesn't matter, it has nothing to do with fighting and John isn't here, there is no doctor to help him.

A shadow comes down on him. At first he thinks it's just his eyes which are starting to close, but it is the angel again. With her hand softly touching his forehead to move a strand of hair away she gets his attention and their eyes meet.

"I guess fighting is something I'm not good at." Sherlock huffs with the little breath left in him.

"John is waiting for you." Sherlock starts to panic. "No, he doesn't know you are alive, but he can still feel you, feel that there is something and he is waiting for it. He is your heart and if you die here today yours won't be the only life that vanishes. He will die too, inside. With your death you will shatter his soul and all that will be left will be an empty shell." The angel's voice in his head is filled with emotions.

"So what should I do?" He asks the angel. "Do you have any healing powers or something like that? You are an angel; you should be able to do things like that. To let miracles happen." He was getting angrier with every word he spoke.

The angel gets up and Sherlock misses her touch on his skin. "I can't help you like this. You have to do it by yourself. If you want to live and also keep John alive, you have to get up and go looking for help."

Sherlock can't move and certainly can't get up and walk around in this city where everyone could be an enemy. "John needs you." Simple as that, John needs Sherlock and Sherlock needs his heart, he needs John.

The angel isn't helping him or showing him the way, she stays in the alley, in the shadow and watches him as he walks out into the sun of a busy street in search of someone who can help him, forgetting about possible enemies and traps. He can't die here, he has to finish his mission and then go home. To John.

 

 

Serbia: it was all done, Moriarty's entire inner circle was now gone, dead or in prison. Why was he so stupid and let himself get caught? How could that happen to him? If he had not been stupid, it would just have been a short flight in a plane back to London, maybe a small talk with his brother and then he could have gone home, as a free man.

Maybe this is what he deserves. The pain he is feeling right now. How could he do this to his best friend? Let him watch his fake suicide? John must have felt awful and for two years now he must be feeling terrible thinking Sherlock is dead. How could he ever be forgiven? Why did it take him so long to destroy Moriarty's web? He had been so lazy, had to have a four week break because of a stab wound in his back. And what about all the other days when he had slept or traveled slowly and cautiously because it was safer and no one would remember having seen him?

Sherlock can't remember how long he has been in this room, where the word 'torture' has received a whole new meaning. Everywhere there is blood on him. His blood. He is sure it should be inside his body and not on his skin. His eyes are closed but he feels her presence. The angel looks sad but is trying to hide it from him.

"Are you here to tell me again I have to fight, because I can't see the point of it right now? You won't be able to loosen the ropes because you are not real. You are just a hallucination of my weakened mind." Sherlock puts all his self-hatred into his words while at the same time wishing the angel to prove him wrong.

This time the angel touches him under his chin and slowly lifts his head up. "Someone is coming to save you, to bring you home. You can stop fighting now. Just stay alive for a few more minutes and I promise you that you will see another sunrise." Her eyes say she isn't lying and Sherlock believes her. Not because he wants to or because he has given up, but simply because it is the truth. There is someone coming for him and he doesn't care who this someone is.

She steps back and his head falls down on his chest again and he waits with his eyes closed. Soon there is a noise, a strange one, then the sound of gunfire and a key in a lock. Sherlock doesn't move and waits. The sound of the steps are familiar, he looks up and sees his brother wearing a military uniform and a concerned look on his face. The angel is standing next to him but he cannot see her. So she was really only a hallucination of his mind. But it isn't important now, because Mycroft is her to bring him home, home to John.

 

 

After four months something like normality had settled back at Baker Street. It was almost like before "the fall" which is what they are calling his fake death and the two years apart. John is sitting in his armchair reading yesterday's newspaper. Sherlock is sitting on the sofa in his thinking position watching John. There hasn't been a case for nearly a week and an hour ago he finished his last experiment.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?" John doesn't look up.

"I'm bored, do something." Now John puts the paper down, looks him in the eyes.

"What can I do? Should I go and murder someone?" Sherlock doesn't have time to answer. There is a knock on the door and as Sherlock makes no move to stand up from the sofa, John gets up to answer the call.

As he opens the door, the young woman who is standing at the top of the stairs just walks past him and lets herself inside their flat. John closes the door and turns around to Sherlock.

"Looks like a client. That should stop your bor..." John stops mid-word. Sherlock has a haunted look in his eyes and the calm mask he always wears falls down.

John wants to say something but the woman moves first, turns around to him and lays a finger on his lips. He understands this is something private but not dangerous and he will ask Sherlock later about it. John offers her tea but she shakes her head. John sits down on his chair again but keeps an eye on them.

Sherlock starts to recover from his shock and John can see his mouth start to open. But again the woman stops him with one of her fingers on his lips. To John's surprise Sherlock stops. He just listens to her command, without saying anything.

Some time passes and after what feels like an hour but in reality were only a few minutes the woman who was sitting in front of Sherlock gets up.

"Thank you." It was just two simple words but the way Sherlock has spoken them with more gratitude than ever before in his life makes them important. The woman answers in her own way convincing John that she can't talk. With one hand on his left cheek she gives him a kiss on the right one and then leaves the room.

There is silence. Sherlock just stares towards the door as if the woman were still standing there. "Who was she?" John is too curious to wait any longer.

After a long moment John thinks he will never get an answer. But then Sherlock starts to smile and looks at him. "Someone who told me things I had forgotten, so that I could keep going and come back to the place I belong."

John wasn't entirely sure what he meant but it was ok. He would never be able to understand Sherlock completely. John gets up and makes two cups of tea one for his mad genius and one for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


End file.
